


Torrential

by Rebel_Atar



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Guardian in training era, M/M, PWP, This is just me indulging myself at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Atar/pseuds/Rebel_Atar
Summary: The rare rains that come to Jedha are awaited eagerly by Chirrut.





	Torrential

The cold mesa of Jedha was reaching its flash point. Days began to stretch with tension as the air thickened and the pale skies darkened with clouds. The sentients of the Holy City could taste the moisture in the air, feel it cling to their clothes and their bodies. The city waited, with baited breath. None waited as impatiently as Chirrut Imwe.

 

He had been antsy ever since the weather began to turn, before it even. Chirrut always more sensitive to such subtle shifts of atmosphere. As the days drew on he worse looser robes, ones that could easily be shucked off when he needed, and lingered outside far longer than an acolyte was supposed to. His duties were half hearted, he was too distracted to focus on them.

 

It was late afternoon when, finally, the tension in the air broke and dark clouds that had been hovering over the city for days let loose their spoils. The first drop hit the dry, cracked street of one of NiJedha’s back alleys, not important enough for the uneven paving that littered the rest of the city. It threw up a halo of dust in its wake, staining the ground dark as the desert moon greedily sucked up the long awaited moisture.

 

The downpour was swift in coming after that first drop. Little dark spots appearing across the streets and pathways, turning the city polkadot for a minute or so before its entirety was stained dark and rich. The city wasn’t built for rain, no part of the moon was. The houses emptied of their occupants. NiJedha thronged with people holding out anything they had that could collect the rain. Then, as the streets turned to streams and then into rivers, the city emptied again. Children herded inside to safety. Houses battened down tight to keep out leaks.

 

Baze Malbus, having put up with Chirrut’s impatience for long enough, wandered through the halls of the Temple of the Kyber trying to seek out where his lover had chosen to watch the rain from. He found him when he passed the doorway into the courtyard and happened to glance through it.

 

Chirrut was kneeling in the center of the courtyard, his outer robe already discarded. He was shirtless, just in his trousers and they were drenched through. His arms were outstretched, his head tilted up to the sky. 

 

He looked beatific. Baze knew he would already be running high from all the sensation. Each drop of rain on his skin like a kiss, every pitter patter painting the world to his ears.

 

Baze stepped out into the rain, a few short steps bribing him to Chirrut. He smoothed one hand over his love’s close cropped hair and was stunned still by the raptures gasp that escaped Chirrut. He always forgot just how much the rains took Chirrut.

 

“Baze.” Chirrut sighed. He grasped onto Baze's robes and used them to climb his way up his lover in order to get to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Baze's chin and tugged on one sleeve of his robes.

 

“Roof. Please.”

 

Baze hushed him with a chaste kiss but allowed Chirrut to pull him along. 

 

When they reached one of the flat roofs Chirrut peeled his trousers and smallclothes off and stood for a moment drinking in the feeling of the rain on every inch of his skin. He turned back to Baze and held out his hand.

 

“Take me. Please. Baze, I-”

 

Baze crowded against him and cut him off with a kiss, large hands coming up to cup Chirrut’s cheeks. Chirrut clung to him, rain slick. The water ran down his skin in streams, following the curve of each muscle. It dripped from the end of his nose. He ground against Baze’s thigh, already hard, already desperate.

 

“Please.” Begged Chirrut between kisses. “Baze,  _ please. _ ” 

 

Baze shushed him and helped his love to lay down. Cool, wet tiles under Chirrut’s back making him arch and squirm against the rooftop. Baze fished inside his sodden robes for the vial of oil he’d taken to carrying around because Chirrut was not only incorrigible but insatiable and eternally difficult to refuse. He slicked Chirrut up quickly, twisting his fingers inside him to spread the oil but also wring moan after moan from his beloved. By the time Chirrut was beginning to shake from it all Baze slicked his cock, hot and hard because damn it if Chirrut didn’t do so much for him like this, and slid slowly into inside his lover.

 

Inch by incremental inch Baze edged forward as Chirrut thrashed and moaned, desperate to be filled but needing it now, needing it faster. Once Baze’s hips were finally flush against Chirrut’s he hoisted Chirrut’s legs over his shoulders, spreading him wide, and then wasted no time in fucking Chirrut into absolute delirium.

 

It was rough, hard thrusts that if it weren’t for the rain would have sent the noise of flesh slapping against flesh echoing into the air. Chirrut moaned and pleaded and let out breathless giggles and cries for more, his face lit with an open mouthed grin. Half pleasured, half near ascendant. 

 

Baze was kneeling, upright, keeping as much of his weight off of Chirrut as he could, the opposite of what his lover normally asked for but this way Chirrut could feel as much of the rain as possible. Every droplet sending him spiraling closer to oblivion and every one of Baze’s thrusts closing the distance further. Chirrut’s cock was leaking steadily against his stomach but he made no move to touch it. His arms reaching above his head to stretch as much of his body out to the storm as he could when he wasn’t reaching them up to the sky and grasping for the rain.

 

Baze was still fully clothed and his robes were plastered to him sticking to and pulling at his skin every time he moved, every time he thrusted into Chirrut. The drag of sodden fabric against his skin should have been clammy and unpleasant but Chirrut was pulling him along into his delirium and it almost felt like hands stroking over Baze’s skin.

 

Lightning flashed at the edge of the city and the thunder crack echoed around the temples halls and spires. Chirrut gasped, spasming in shock and ecstasy and coming hard in spurts over his stomach and chest. The rain mixed with it on his skin sending swirling in whorls and spirals, dripping down his sides in rivulets.

 

He looked decadent, sprawled out in the rain with his cheeks flushed and his own come painting patterns all over his skin. Baze groaned at the sight and pounded into Chirrut faster, chasing his own release. Each thrust forced another breathy moan from Chirrut, strung out and heading quickly towards overstimulation.

 

Baze bent Chirrut near in half when he came, filling him with a warmth that was in such contast to the cool rain that Chirrut’s body spasmed around him and Chirrut clawed at his shoulders, panting and moaning. He writhed against Baze, not knowing if he wanted more or if he wanted to stop. Begging for both in his incoherence. 

 

Baze kissed him, deep but gently, and eased himself out. He let the rain cleanse Chirrut’s skin while he tucked himself away again until Chirrut started to shake. He bundled him up carefully, wrapping Chirrut in the excesses of his robes even though they were wet. Holding him close to share his body heat with his lover. He picked up the damp pile of Chirrut’s trousers from the tiles and carried Chirrut inside.

 

He took them down into depths of the temple, to borrow some extra towels and blankets from the stores, before taking Chirrut to the sanctity of their room. He lay Chirrut out on a towel on their bed and stripped himself of his wet clothes. Baze dried the both of them, Chirrut still shaky and sluggish, and then wrapped them both up together on the bed in soft blankets. Warm, safe and dry they would wait out the rest of the storm here with Chirrut pressed against Baze’s chest as he slowly worked his way back to himself.


End file.
